Not so much Querelle as Ali (not speaking in Genet terms, but Fassbinder!) - wave upon wave of unfurling Middle Eastern spice-shop scent, cut through by the emerald soapiness of vetiver. This isn't the immaculate vetiver of Guerlain however - this is vetiver freshly plucked, dirt still clinging to the roots.
Boy-of-the-household gave it a 6/10 - perhaps preferable on one more swarthy, sweaty, and with a week's worth of stubble.
Two hours later a very gentle oakmoss emerges, a note I've previously felt downright fear from, due to Serge Lutens' fecal and overpowering Chene. This oakmoss makes me feel like climbing trees and playground kisses.